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The Getty Conservation Institute Newsletter

Volume 18, Number 1 2003

Front cover: Tourists visiting the Hellenistic andRoman archaeological site of Ephesus in westernTurkey. The Ephesus theater, seen in the background,was the largest in Asia Minor. Preservation of theworld’s archaeological resources will ultimatelydepend upon greater integration of conservation intothe practice of archaeology. Photo: Guillermo Aldana.

The J. Paul Getty Trust

Barry Munitz President and Chief Executive Officer

The Getty Conservation Institute

Timothy P. Whalen Director

Jeanne Marie Teutonico Associate Director, Field Projects and Conservation Science

Kathleen Gaines Assistant Director, Administration

Giacomo Chiari Chief Scientist

Luke Gilliland-Swetland Head of Information Resources

Kristin Kelly Head of Public Programs & Communications

François LeBlanc Head of Field Projects

Conservation, The Getty Conservation Institute Newsletter

Jeffrey Levin Editor

Angela Escobar Assistant Editor

Joe Molloy Graphic Designer

Color West Lithography Inc. Lithography

The Getty Conservation Institute (GCI) works internationally to

advance conservation and to enhance and encourage the preservation

and understanding of the visual arts in all of their dimensions—

objects, collections, architecture, and sites. The Institute serves the

conservation community through scientific research; education and

training; field projects; and the dissemination of the results of both

its work and the work of others in the field. In all its endeavors, the

Institute is committed to addressing unanswered questions and to

promoting the highest possible standards of conservation practice.

The GCI is a program of the J. Paul Getty Trust, an international

cultural and philanthropic organization devoted to the visual arts and

the humanities that includes an art museum as well as programs for

education, scholarship, and conservation.

Conservation, The Getty Conservation Institute Newsletter,

is distributed free of charge three times per year, to professionals

in conservation and related fields and to members of the public

concerned about conservation. Back issues of the newsletter,

as well as additional information regarding the activities of the GCI,

can be found in the Conservation section of the Getty’s Web site.

www.getty.edu

The Getty Conservation Institute

1200 Getty Center Drive, Suite 700Los Angeles, CA 90049-1684 USATel 310 440 7325Fax 310 440 7702

© 2003 J. Paul Getty Trust

Con

tent

sFeature 4 A Responsibility for the Past Integrating Conservation and ArchaeologyBy Brian FaganThe stereotype of the archaeological conservator is someone who mends pots, stabilizeswaterlogged artifacts, or achieves miracles of restoration. In fact, conservation encompassesmore than just the care of objects. Conservation professionals include individuals withbackgrounds ranging from geology and chemistry to architecture and engineering. These

professionals can and should play an integral role in the preservation of archaeological sites.

But for that to happen, archaeologists need a new perspective on archaeological conserva-

tion, one in which conservation is the top priority whenever fieldwork is planned.

22 Of the Past, for the Future A Coalition for Change at the Fifth World Archaeological CongressBy Neville Agnew

The World Archaeological Congress is an international organization of practicing

archaeologists, which holds meetings every four years. The fifth congress is the first to

include a major theme on the conservation of archaeological sites and materials. Organized

by a coalition of organizations led by the , these conservation sessions are intended to

reach out to the archaeology profession and to communicate a message of holistic conserva-

tion, stressing the partnership role that conservation can play in archaeology.

GCI News 26 Projects, Events, and PublicationsUpdates on Getty Conservation Institute projects, events, publications, and staff.

News in 18 Conservation at the Core of Archaeological Strategy Conservation The Case of Ancient Urkesh at Tell Mozan

By Giorgio Buccellati and Sophie Bonetti

For too long conservation has been considered extrinsic to archaeology, rather than a basic

part of the process. As a result, its potential for contributing from within to the articulation

of archaeological methods and to the development of theoretical arguments has not been

fully realized. But such an approach—integrating conservation into archaeological work

at a site—has been central to excavations at Tell Mozan, the location of ancient Urkesh in

northeastern Syria.

Dialogue 11 Closing the Divide A Discussion about Archaeology and ConservationIn a world where archaeological sites face a variety of threats to their survival, how much

have the principles of conservation and preservation found their way into the practice of

archaeology? Archaeologists Angel Cabeza, Brian Egloff, and Tim Williams and tourism

expert Eugenio Yunis address this and other questions with the ’s Neville Agnew,

Martha Demas, and Jeffrey Levin.

4 Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lFeature

Feat

ure

Portrait of WilliamMatthew Flinders Petrie.A pioneer in the field of Egyptian archaeologywho decried the lack ofattention paid to preser-vation, Petrie’s excava-tion techniques—whichemphasized recordingthe physical dispersal of objects in a site—were unique for his time.Photo: Courtesy PetrieMuseum of EgyptianArchaeology, UniversityCollege London.

A Responsibility forIntegrating Conservation andBy Brian Fagan

TT N a century ago was shocking. “It is sickening the rate at which everything is being destroyed, and the little regard paid to preservation,” lamented EgyptologistFlinders Petrie in in Aims and Methods in Archaeology. Despitevastly improved excavation methods, sophisticated remote sensing

techniques, and a battery of scientific approaches, the Nile destruc-

tion of Petrie’s time is now global. The nonrenewable record of the

human past is evaporating before our eyes in every corner of the

world at a dizzying pace. The culprits are easily identified—

unprecedented population growth, massive industrialization, urban

expansion, strip mining, and deep plowing. Added to this is the

damage wrought by looters and professional grave robbers feeding

the insatiable international antiquities market. Yet much of the pro-

fessional archaeological community still pays little more than lip

service to conservation.

Petrie’s conservation strategy was straightforward: excavation

and yet more excavation, with careful attention to the smallest

object, and, above all, prompt and full publication. Not that Petrie

was a paragon of archaeological virtue. By today’s standards, his

excavation methods were, at best, rough. He recovered many

objects by paying his workers for them, lest precious finds ended up

in a dealer’s hands.

In Petrie’s day, antiquities legislation, such as there was, was

laxly enforced. Today, virtually every nation has antiquities laws on

the books, ranging from measures that protect all archaeological

sites and artifacts to others that extend protection only to sites on

public land. On paper there is a patchwork of legal protection for

many of the world’s sites. But enforcing these laws is another mat-

ter. Effective policing of sites is expensive and, for poorer countries,

an investment with little perceptible return, unless there are eco-

nomic benefits from mass tourism.

Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lFeature 5

To their credit, many archaeologists have been proactive in

fostering protective legislation and in educating the public about

the importance of archaeology. Public archaeology—which seeks to

inform the public about cultural heritage and investigation of the

past—is a growth industry. As numerous observers have pointed

out, an aware public and an archaeology engaged in society are key

to preserving the archaeological record. Unfortunately, these all-

important conservation activities do not rank high in the archaeo-

logical pantheon of valued activities, despite the passionate engage-

ment of many eminent and influential archaeologists.

Conserving the Resource

Mention the word conservation to most archaeologists and they will

regale you with their minor triumphs in the field—such as lifting a

delicate infant burial or piecing together a clay pot. In archaeologi-

cal circles, conservation means conservation of artifacts or of

buildings, rock, art, or other tangible remains. This narrow defini-

tion stems from the often-specialized nature of conservation work

and the complex science that is sometimes involved. Even today,

most archaeologists are startlingly unaware that archaeology and

conservation are closely intertwined. They tend to categorize

archaeology into artificial subdivisions: purely academic research,

salvaging and protecting the archaeological record, and conserva-

tion—the latter being an entirely different activity.

The stereotype of the conservator in archaeology is of some-

one who mends pots, stabilizes waterlogged artifacts, or achieves

miracles of restoration. In fact, conservation encompasses a much

broader field of endeavor than just the care of objects. Conserva-

tion professionals include individuals with backgrounds in fields

ranging from geology and chemistry to architecture and engineer-

ing. These professionals can and should play an integral role in

the preservation of archaeological sites. But for that to happen,

archaeologists need a new perspective on archaeological conserva-

tion, one in which conservation is the top priority whenever field-

work is planned.

In the respected southwestern archaeologist William

Lipe wrote a now-classic paper in The Kiva entitled “A Conserva-

tion Model for American Archaeology.” The article has become

required reading for anyone concerned with archaeological conser-

vation. Lipe pointed out that “we are now beginning to realize that

all sites are rather immediately threatened, if one takes a time frame

of more than a few years.” He also distinguished between emer-

gency and “leisurely” salvage, the latter being investigations at sites

“when we do not yet know the date at which the site may be lost.”

Leisurely salvage was the purview of academic archaeologists

but, he warned, “if our field is to last for more than a few decades,

we need to shift to a resource conservation model as primary.”

Obviously, archaeologists have to excavate enough to research basic

problems and to keep the field intellectually healthy, but their

primary responsibility should be to ensure that the finite resource

base of archaeological sites lasts as long as possible.

The Lipe paper appeared in the early days of concern about

the destruction of sites, and grew out of his experiences with a field

that had previously been called salvage archaeology and that was

becoming known as cultural resource management (). The new

term suggested managing the archaeological record for future gen-

erations—a far broader mandate than just the rescue of sites and

artifacts from the blade of a bulldozer. This management includes

not only survey, excavation, and analysis but also recommendations

for long-term management of the resource. was a new type of

archaeology, created not by academic questions but by a need to sat-

isfy legal mandates for the management of sites. It has mush-

roomed since the s and is now the dominant form of field and

laboratory archaeology in North America. Under various guises,

it dominates archaeology in many other parts of the world as well,

among them Australia, Europe, and Japan.

the PastArchaeology

6 Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lFeature

If trends continue, archaeology—instead of being a purely

academic discipline—will become almost entirely a profession

focused on managing the past. Most employment opportunities are

now in private companies working under tight deadlines and strict

legal requirements. projects have serious responsibilities for

the past, often involving decisions as to which sites are to be

excavated, which are to be destroyed, and which are to be saved in

their entirety. Often, budgetary issues intervene that weigh archae-

ological sites against multimillion-dollar construction projects.

The long-term archaeological work in the Ballona wetlands—

site of the massive Playa Vista development project in west Los

Angeles—is an all-too-rare example of archaeology winning.

Another instance is a historic Chumash village named Xonxon’ata

in central California; there, a road was rerouted, limited excavations

were carried out, and precious information on an important com-

munity was saved for posterity. Xonxon’ata is an example where

legal requirements helped enable a successful preservation effort.

Public opinion, when mobilized, is also a powerful voice for archae-

ology. The saving of the Elizabethan Rose Theatre under a high-

rise office building on London’s South Bank resulted from public

outcry rather than from legislation.

In many ways, this aspect of is a highly sophisticated

extension of the Flinders Petrie philosophy: dig it up before some-

one else destroys it. It is an attempt to salvage as much information

as possible with the time, money, and methods available. In some

respects, it represents the successful implementation of part of

Lipe’s conservation model.

But there are downsides. An explosion of archaeological data

has emerged from these many projects, most of it published in what

is called “gray literature”—reports of limited circulation or in

cyberspace, which, despite efforts to the contrary, are effectively

inaccessible to most archaeologists. To their credit, many

archaeologists have made determined efforts to publish their work

in academic settings and to produce books or monographs; many

academic archaeologists have also completed valuable research as

part of a project. But while the sites may have been investi-

gated and compliance reports written, the basic archaeological data

from them remains unvetted.

has brought many benefits to archaeology, especially in

its bold use of remote sensing and other nonintrusive field meth-

ods. Unfortunately, much activity, especially in the areas of

legal compliance and project management, lies outside the conven-

tional purview of academic archaeology. A growing chasm has

opened between many archaeologists and their academic col-

leagues, who are concerned not with compliance and mitigation

but with the acquisition of original knowledge. This chasm results

from the outdated values of archaeology and from serious lacunae

in archaeological training. If conservation was a central value of all

archaeological training and practice, this chasm would be substan-

tially narrowed.

Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lFeature 7

A Conservation Ethic

In his article, Lipe pointed out that all archaeological excava-

tion, whether -based or not, erodes the database; thus, careful

research designs, which incorporate conservation as a basic strat-

egy, are essential. All archaeologists are involved with preservation

of the resource, either in the long- or short-term; this means that a

conservation ethic must be integral to all archaeological research.

The problem is even more acute now than when Lipe

wrote his paper. Today there are hundreds, if not thousands, of

researchers who are mining sites to answer purely academic—and

often very insignificant—questions. This ever-expanding activity

(admittedly sometimes carried out as part of a project) is as

devastating to the future of archaeology as is industrial activity.

Every summer dozens of fieldworkers excavate yet more sites, with

little concern for the most pressing problem of all—will there be

sites for their grandchildren to investigate? While no one advocates

a complete moratorium on excavation, it must be the strategy

of last resort, and it should never be total, unless a site is about to

vanish forever.

In the academy, archaeology is a science of discovery: survey,

excavation, laboratory work, and peer-reviewed publication.

Beneath these are—in descending order of perceived desirability—

activities, teaching, curating, public archaeology, and adminis-

trative roles. Conservation does not figure in the hierarchy at all,

except as a generally accepted and ill-defined basic ethic, which is

taught in virtually no graduate programs. While both the Archae-

ological Institute of America and the Society for American Archae-

ology have developed forthright ethical statements and policies to

which their members are expected to adhere, few graduate semi-

nars dwell on ethics in any depth.

Most archaeologists at research universities are on a treadmill

of survey and excavation, publication, then more fieldwork and yet

more publication. Much of this activity is driven by grants from

private or public sources that, like university promotion commit-

tees, are most interested in new discoveries and their rapid publica-

tion. Almost no agencies that support archaeological research call

An archaeologicalexcavation at theBallona wetlands in thePlaya Vista section ofLos Angeles, California.Increasingly, archaeol-ogy is being conductedat sites such as this that confront imminentdevelopment. TheBallona wetlands, oncehome to a number ofprehistoric peoples,today lie amid a large

area of current andproposed residentialand commercial devel-opment. Since 1989, a program of environ-mental reconstructionand archaeologicalinvestigations has beenconducted at the site—much of it performed inconjunction with thisdevelopment. Photo:Courtesy StatisticalResearch Inc.

A May 1989 overheadview of the excavatedremains of the RoseTheatre in London, and a photograph takenthe following month of a banner supportingtheir preservation, hung on the fencesurrounding the excava-tion. The late-16th-century Elizabethantheater, unearthed afteran office block wasdemolished for redevel-

opment, was one of the earliest and mostsuccessful theaters of its type. The ultimateprotection of the the-ater’s remains withinthe new construction is an instance of publicoutcry ultimately lead-ing to the preservationof an archaeologicalsite. Photos: AndyFulgoni/Museum of Lon-don and Terry Smith/Timepix.

8 Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lFeature

for a conservation plan in their guidelines for proposal. Nor do they

insist on full publication before considering a further application

for new fieldwork. This model of quick paper publication is appro-

priate for a fast-moving discipline like theoretical physics or

climatology, but not for archaeological publication where—as the

great excavator Sir Mortimer Wheeler reminded us years ago—

the primary responsibility is to record one’s findings for posterity.

Regrettably, the publish-or-perish system makes little allowance for

the time it takes to complete a final report, nor are funds for such

work readily available.

We archaeologists are also to blame. We would rather excavate

and write stimulating provisional reports than undertake the

laborious, time-consuming work of a final report. Even with all the

danger signs around us, we often ignore a fundamental reality of

archaeology: an unpublished site is destroyed as completely as one

demolished by a bulldozer. The record can never be replaced.

Like all sciences, archaeology has become increasingly spe-

cialized, with an explosion in master’s and doctoral programs.

For years, only a handful of students entered such programs.

Today hundreds of people enter such programs each year, all of

them working under specialist researchers who act as their mentors.

Only a few graduate programs, most of them recent, are training

people for a world in which archaeology is now a profession as

much as it is an academic discipline. We are long overdue for a

massive reorientation of graduate training and serious population

control in the number of newly minted academic specialists, many

of whom end up in the world and hate it. These are the last

people who should be salvaging the past.

At no point in the careers of most archaeology graduate stu-

dents do they receive comprehensive training in conservation.

Most Ph.D. candidates have never heard of Lipe’s groundbreaking

paper, let alone have read it. When questioned about this lacuna,

many hard-pressed faculty say that they do not have time to include

conservation in the curriculum. To which the only response must

be that they need to reorder their priorities, for the future of

archaeology and for the benefit of their students’ careers. It is also

a matter of basic professional ethics.

Integrating Conservation and Archaeology

How, then, do we make conservation central to archaeological activ-

ity? We need major shifts in research priorities, drastic reductions

in the number of doctorates in purely academic subjects, and a

growth in meaningful graduate programs that meld archaeology

and conservation into a seamless whole. We need to start a long-

term debate about curriculum within both archaeological and

conservation circles. Archaeology does not need more specialized

fieldwork mindlessly culling a diminishing inventory of undis-

turbed sites. In fact, the basic challenges archaeology faces in the

future are far more interesting and exciting.

Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lFeature 9

These challenges are best addressed by integrating conserva-

tion into the very fabric of archaeological research, as part of the

basic design of any project. We should never forget that even the

most careful excavation destroys the archaeological record. It is all

very well to develop a research proposal for the excavation of an

early farming village in Syria or an Andean ceremonial center that

promises fresh insights into the origins of agriculture. But in an era

when the archaeological record is under threat everywhere, the first

concern of any research project should be the maintenance of the

site and the stakes of all those concerned with its conservation—

be they archaeologists, local landowners, tourist officials, or indige-

nous peoples.

Some may question this priority, but to challenge it they

must answer a simple question: what guarantee do we have that

future generations of archaeologists will be able to build upon your

field research? For example, we can never hope to check the validity

of Leonard Woolley’s reconstructions of the royal burials at Ur;

his records are too incomplete. Nor can we answer many questions

about the history and uses of Pueblo Bonito in Chaco Canyon—

most of the rooms were emptied haphazardly in the early days

of gung-ho archaeology. If we are to be responsible stewards

of the past, we must make all research subordinate, at least in part,

to preservation and conservation. At present, our protective

infrastructure and professional training are woefully inadequate

to the task.

Pueblo Bonito at ChacoCanyon National Histori-cal Park in New Mexico.Because of the way thatthe first excavations ofrooms at Pueblo Bonitowere carried out a cen-tury ago, many of thequestions that we haveregarding the site nowcannot be answered.During the 1990s, the

GCI collaborated withthe U.S. National ParkService to investigate,develop, and field-test,on a limited scale,several protectivestrategies for preserv-ing the standing archi-tectural remains at thesite. Photo: GuillermoAldana.

Workers repairing theroof of the Mausoleumof Ibn Zayd at the Silk Road site of Merv in Turkmenistan, inSeptember 2002.Archaeologists, conser-vators, and park man-agers are workingclosely together to provide an integratedapproach to preservingthis World Heritage Site.Here the mausoleum’s

early-20th-century con-crete roof is replacedwith a traditional earth-en roof, which requireslow maintenance andprovides an effectiveweatherproof surfacethat allows the struc-ture to breathe. Photos:Tim Williams, Instituteof Archaeology, Univer-sity College London.

How can we better integrate conservation into archaeological

practice?

First, intensify the present cautious interactions between

archaeologists and the conservation community with the objective

of fostering specific outcomes. Such outcomes should include a

massive revamping of basic archaeological training, which would

make conservation strategies central to research. Introduce archae-

ologists to such issues as stewardship and stakeholders, to archae-

ological tourism and the economics of heritage—as part of their

basic academic training.

Second, foster intensive research into—and development

of—nonintrusive archaeological methods to minimize excavation

in the future. Important progress has been made in this area but

much more needs to be done.

Third, require that all doctoral dissertation proposals make

conservation the centerpiece of the proposed research. As a corol-

lary, encourage grant-giving agencies, whether government or

private, to insist on conservation plans as the first priority in all

funding proposals.

Fourth, require full publication of all fieldwork before future

excavation and surveys are funded. The term publication would also

include specific actions to preserve both the field records and the

finds from the excavations.

Fifth, drastically reduce admissions to academic doctoral

programs, but foster and support graduate curricula that make

conservation the highest priority.

Last, decouple archaeology from the publish-or-perish

culture, and reward conservation projects as equal partners.

A strong case could be made for a series of highly prestigious prizes

or awards that give prominence and prestige to archaeological con-

servation.

No one suggests that basic research should be abandoned or

is unimportant. But we need to look far beyond the immediate grat-

ification of a new discovery or of a peer-reviewed paper published

in the pages of Science. At present, we are not even debating the

ways in which we must integrate a conservation ethic into the core

of archaeological research. The sooner we begin, the better.

As the current managers of the nonrenewable resource,

we archaeologists bear a heavy ethical responsibility to conserve the

past for the future, while maintaining a steady but carefully consid-

ered flow of basic research, which gives the discipline its vitality.

At present, conservation stands at the margins of the archaeological

world. Fortunately, notable examples of basic research and conser-

vation working hand in hand are not uncommon. For instance,

excavations at the Maya center of Xunantunich in Belize during

the s involved not only basic research but also the conservation

of the site during the excavation process. Also in the s, African

specialist David Phillipson included limited conservation work

in his investigations of the Axumite Empire’s capital in highland

Ethiopia, famous for its spectacular royal stelae. But such instances

are the exception rather than the rule. As William Lipe said some

years ago in these pages, “Archaeologists must be conservative in

their own uses of the archaeological record, so that future research

can build on current work” (see Conservation, vol. , no. ).

We have moved a long way toward implementing parts of

Lipe’s visionary model, but we still have a long way to go. Even

faced with crisis, a great deal of archaeology still proceeds with

obscure theoretical debate and with academic specialization that

satisfies the publish-or-perish cosmos. Until archaeological activity

is grounded firmly in a conservation ethic, archaeology is doomed

to long-term extinction.

Brian Fagan is a professor of anthropology at the University of California,Santa Barbara. He spent his early career working in central Africa inmuseums and monuments administration. He is the author of many bookson archaeology for a general audience.

A project team memberdocumenting the westface of the Castillo atthe Maya site of Xunan-tunich in Belize. In theearly 1990s, the GCIworked with archaeolo-gists from UCLA and theDepartment of Archae-ology in Belize on a col-laborative project at

Xunantunich to addressproblems of conservingarchaeological sites inhumid tropical zones.The site was chosen inpart because it offeredan opportunity to inte-grate conservation withan ongoing excavation.Photo: GuillermoAldana.

10 Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lFeature

Dial

ogue

Jeffrey Levin: Traditionally, archaeology has been an academic

profession focused on investigating and interpreting the past.

Conservation, on the other hand, is focused on protecting and

preserving that past. Are these two professions somewhat anti-

thetical, given that archaeology is concerned with research and

publication in a way that conservation is not?

Tim Williams: In Britain, at least to percent of the people

employed in archaeology are outside academia. In the last decade,

most archaeologists have realized that they have a critical role in

the conservation of resources so that future generations will be able

to partake in the process of discovery, exploration, and analysis.

Certainly within Britain, where a preservation-in-situ culture

has developed over the last years, most archaeologists are not in

competition with the idea of conservation. It’s more a matter

of how you can mediate that process.

Brian Egloff: In Australia, we’ve moved away from traditional

archaeological excavations because of the difficulty of getting the

indigenous community to agree with any physical intervention with

their heritage. It comes back to who owns the past. If somebody

else owns the past, your intervention may be restricted. So we have

very little pure academic, traditional archaeology that is answering

an academic question. You are more likely to be answering a conser-

vation question.

Angel Cabeza: In my country and in other Latin American countries

in the last years, archaeology as a discipline has also changed

much. Twenty years ago, all archaeologists worked in universities or

museums and depended on state grants for research. Now maybe

about to percent of all archaeologists work for private enter-

prises conducting environmental impact assessments. Young

archaeology professionals are working for big enterprises or for the

government or communities. Some of these people who work for

business also teach in the universities and do their own research. So

this isn’t black and white.

In a world where archaeological sites face a

variety of threats to their survival, how much

have the principles of conservation and preserva-

tion found their way into the practice of archae-

ology? To address this and other questions,

we spoke with four experts whose work deals with

studying, preserving, and managing archaeologi-

cal sites, as well as with tourism at those sites.

Angel Cabeza is a professor of cultural heritage

conservation at the University of Chile and

executive secretary of the Chilean Council of

National Monuments. An archaeologist and an

authority on cultural and natural heritage

conservation issues in Chile, he has worked to

develop heritage management models in Chile

that encourage the participation of local commu-

nities in heritage management.

Brian Egloff is an associate professor at the

School of Resource, Environmental, and

Heritage Sciences at the University of Canberra

in Australia, and he currently chairs the Inter-

national Committee on Archaeological Heritage

Management of ICOMOS. An archaeologist,

he has coauthored numerous conservation plans

for sites throughout Australia.

Tim Williams is an archaeologist and a senior

lecturer at the Institute of Archaeology of

University College London, specializing in the

management of archaeological sites. He has

codirected excavations in Beirut, Lebanon, and is

currently directing a research, site management,

and conservation project at the Silk Road site of

Merv in Turkmenistan.

Eugenio Yunis is head of the Sustainable

Development group at the World Tourism

Organization (WTO) in Madrid, where he works

on the application of sustainable development

principles to tourism, with a special emphasis on

the natural and cultural heritage. His most recent

book is Tourism Sustainability and Market

Competitiveness ().

They spoke with Neville Agnew, a GCI principal

project specialist; Martha Demas, a GCI senior

project specialist; and Jeffrey Levin, editor of

Conservation, The GCI Newsletter.

ClosingtheDivideA Discussion about Archaeology and Conservation

Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lDialogue 11

12 Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lDialogue

Martha Demas: So is there a divide between academic archaeolo-

gists and those archaeologists engaged in some form of manage-

ment or conservation of sites? If most archaeologists are not in

academia today, why is there such a strong perception of a differ-

ence between the objectives of academic archaeologists and those

of conservation professionals? Is the divide more between differ-

ent types of archaeologists and different types of archaeology?

Neville Agnew: It’s clear to me that some divide still exists. I think

that there are two categories at least—traditional archaeology

and one more driven by an awareness of preservation. Tradi-

tional archaeologists are concerned about the discovery of infor-

mation that they extract from the site. Conservation profession-

als—and I include here contract archaeologists—are concerned

about preserving the materiality that yielded the information.

So there is a dividing line.

Eugenio Yunis: But that is a divide you find in almost any discipline.

Think of mathematicians. Pure mathematicians used to be only in

academia. Today many mathematicians work in computer sciences

and in all those applications of mathematics. Perhaps we are

witnessing a segment of the archaeologist’s profession moving into

that stage that is concerned with presentation to the general

public—disseminating their results not only to their peers but to

a wider audience, which is what should be done if we are trying to

recover the past. At the end of the day, scholarly work has to

permeate to the general public, raising the cultural level of society.

Jeffrey Levin: Are archaeologists working outside of academia—

those doing more applied than research-oriented work—

typically integrating conservation practice into their work?

Brian Egloff: We are forming partnerships. Applied anthropologists

are realizing that they need that depth of inquiry that pure discov-

ery research provides, and they are forming partnerships with

people in academic institutions because they can provide that

research depth. We in conservation are dealing with immediate

matters and do not always have an opportunity to go into that

depth. I have many partnerships with academic archaeologists or

anthropologists at the Australian National University or other

institutions that have that research depth.

Angel Cabeza: We can also draw a difference between the older gen-

eration of archaeologists and the newer one. My professors used to

work alone with their students. The younger generation knows that

they need a team to work. There’s a requirement of the Chilean

Law of Monuments that if I give you permission to work in the

field, you have to refill your site—or maybe you have to rebuild the

site—and when you finish, I have to go there and see if you did it

well. So people go into the field with a team, and always in the team

there must be a conservator. You have an archaeologist who is the

chief of the team, but in your team is a conservator. You have more

prestige if you have a team with that kind of expertise.

Tim Williams: Absolutely. Archaeology is a team-based activity. It

used to be that the site director was some sort of iconic figure who

made all the decisions. It’s changed into a project-oriented team,

which is why some of these black-and-whites about archaeologists

and conservators don’t apply. There’s a need to assemble teams

that bring with them environmental, managerial, anthropological,

and conservation skills to achieve a goal. But in some sense, the

academic community has been left behind because it still prizes

individual research. People are not assessed as teams. They’re

assessed as individuals. Universities are about producing people

who are valued on their individual output. So there is a bit of ten-

sion there.

Jeffrey Levin: What more can we do to integrate conservation

training, practice, and ethics into graduate education so that

conservation will be effectively applied once graduates leave the

university and go out into the field?

. . . archaeologistsare developingan integratedconservationapproachbecause theyrealize they aregoing to becriticized ifthey excavateand then walkaway . . .

Tim Williams

“

”

Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lDialogue 13

Tim Williams: I think we’ve made considerable strides at the Institute

of Archaeology where I work, particularly in raising the issues of

ethics and values, and ideas about authenticity, the rights of indige-

nous peoples, and the nature and relationship of conservation.

Hopefully, this prepares the students to enter that broader world

and operate within the sphere of professional archaeology, expect-

ing to work as teams and expecting to value other opinions.

Neville Agnew: I admire what the Institute of Archaeology is doing.

It’s an extraordinary model. But I don’t think the full integra-

tion of archaeology and conservation has happened yet. As con-

servation professionals going into the field, we see sites that are

abandoned, sites that are neglected, sites that are eroding—and,

yes, we blame the archaeologists. We say they dug it and they

walked away from it.

Tim Williams: I won’t say that every practitioner of archaeology is

integrating conservation into his or her work, but there’s been a big

change. There’s a lot of development-led, development-threat-

driven archaeology that is employing conservation strategies, look-

ing at long-term monitoring, looking at how to avoid the impact

of development, looking at how to balance that impact against the

values and significance that are placed on the sites. And that’s in

professional contract archaeology. There is a relatively small num-

ber of archaeologists still excavating sites—under no threat whatso-

ever—for research-driven purposes. And more and more of those

archaeologists are developing an integrated conservation approach

because they realize they are going to be criticized if they excavate

and then walk away, leaving the site an empty shell.

Neville Agnew: To what extent does your perspective reflect only

the practice in western Europe and not what we might call the

developing world? When you look at the global picture and the

vast archaeological resources of other countries, does the same

truth apply?

Brian Egloff: Certainly when people work within Australia’s legisla-

tive framework, they are tightly controlled. To be argumentative,

I could say that some of my colleagues choose to work overseas so

they will not face those restraints and scrutiny.

Tim Williams: Yes, I’ve heard that one in Britain—people say that

if you don’t know how to dig, then dig abroad! But the ethic is

changing. A lot more archaeologists are taking conservation on

board, and more and more countries are looking to different mod-

els. I’ve been working in Lebanon, where the director general of

antiquities has tight control over the process of excavation. They

used to allow a lot of research excavation with no conservation

whatsoever. Now they’ve tightened that up considerably. Countries

like Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan and Iran are introducing conser-

vation as an integrated part of research. You won’t get a license and

you won’t be able to dig unless those aspects are being explored.

Angel Cabeza: Archaeology has changed so much because of who

pays. The university system in many Latin American countries is

almost broke, so archaeologists—and the universities—have to look

for money outside. The private sector, with the big projects like

dams and highways, has engaged in conservation in a way that has

been developed closely with archaeologists. But I agree with

Neville—in their final reports, archaeologists are looking to answer

different questions and, in the end, they just put in their report

what is written by the conservator about what was done at the site.

Jeffrey Levin: Shouldn’t we distinguish between the involvement

of conservation professionals in archaeological work and the

integration of conservation into the planning of that work? It’s

one thing to have a conservator take care of the problems you

find, and it’s quite another to have a conservation professional—

who is an equal member of the team from the beginning—partici-

pate equally in planning how work will be conducted.

Tim Williams: We’ve still got a long way to go on that, but I think that

applies to most aspects of building real project teams. A lot of peo-

ple pay lip service to the idea of a project team, but it’s still largely

individual-led research; specialists are brought in, but they’re not

really seen as integral to the design of the program. Environmental

archaeologists or object conservators or whatever—they’re often

seen as an appendage to the project, almost a necessary evil. And

conservation is no different. Getting conservation in there as the

underlying ethic is the big challenge—and some way off.

Brian Egloff: It depends. In a project I worked on in Laos, we were

equal partners because there were , objects that had to be con-

served, and we also had to conserve the structures in which those

objects were placed. So there was equal emphasis on conservation

of the object and conservation of the place. That was a partnership

that was driven out of the nature of what had to be conserved.

Tim Williams: You can get good partnerships like that. The work that

we’re doing at Merv in Turkmenistan is an example of that. We

have conservation specialists from erre in France working with

the archaeology park officials and ourselves on site management

and on the archaeology. We’re equal partners. There’s no hierarchy,

and we work as a team.

Brian Egloff: Is the training of conservators changing? To be the

devil’s advocate here—is the specialization of conservators at times

impeding their integration, in a holistic sense, with archaeology?

Because conservators are extraordinarily particular in their training.

Neville Agnew: You’re really thinking of objects conservators

more than site conservators or conservation professionals. Con-

servation professionals come from many disciplines, including

archaeology, and they do think holistically—or ought to. The

conservation profession itself is not without culpability because

it came out of museum objects conservation and met the archaeo-

logical profession in the field, so to speak. We’re now at a point

where perhaps there’s an awareness on both sides that an

archaeological site or anything exposed to the outdoors requires

a holistic approach, because of the multiple threats it faces.

Brian Egloff: As we train people in cultural heritage management

and in objects conservation, we often find that they are applying for

the same job—now called collections managers. In that part of the

workplace, there’s a coming together of those professionals. But we

don’t necessarily see the coming together of specialists in the physi-

cal nature of things with the managers of places, the same way that

we find with collections.

Neville Agnew: How well has stakeholder involvement—which

involves other voices being part of decision making—been

accepted by the archaeological community?

Angel Cabeza: Most archaeologists want to do their work as in previ-

ous times—go to the site, do what they want, and leave. They don’t

want to see anybody there, except maybe some students from the

local school so that they can feel that they are doing something for

the local community. Most archaeologists see stakeholders as a

problem that they cannot deal with because it means more restric-

tions on what they can do. In many countries, new legislation says

you cannot go into Indian lands and do what you want. You must

consult with the local communities—but most archaeologists are

not trained to do this. We have a long way to go to change the minds

of most archaeologists because they try to stay away from all stake-

holders and local communities.

Eugenio Yunis: If you accept the principle of stakeholder participa-

tion, you have to accept it in full. It’s a societal problem because

today we have embraced the idea that everyone has the right to

decide on what is happening around his environment, be it natural

or cultural. And among different groups—and even within the

same ethnic group—you may have different opinions about what to

do. It’s a complex issue that doesn’t have an easy solution.

Brian Egloff: We certainly now have the obligation to be proactive.

We’ve had contracts of up to a quarter of a million dollars to work

with stakeholders as to what heritage they value in a particular

piece of real estate. So it’s big business. You have to get it right—

because if you get it wrong, you’re in court.

14 Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lDialogue

Tim Williams: At the end of the day, archaeology, cultural heritage—

it’s always local. We’ve got to learn to really engage in communica-

tion. I’ve seen so many stakeholder reviews that are so patronizing in

their approach or in their orientation toward a Western idea of data

gathering which isn’t really focused on how to engage in genuine

dialogue to articulate values and ideas. They’re about saying, “Well,

we ought to consult the local people, so we’ll send them a question-

naire. If they’re able, they’ll send in a reply.” But that’s not good

enough.

Eugenio Yunis: Then you have to think of a way for people to be able

to take part in this discussion in an informed manner.

Tim Williams: That’s one area where archaeology has been particularly

bad. We haven’t done well at communicating the results of archaeo-

logical research. At the same time that we expect other people to

engage in a dialogue, we only give them part of the information. We

expect them to form values and ideas about significance, but we’re

not giving them the same information that we work with. And we

You mustconsult with the local communities—but mostarchaeologistsare not trained to do this.

Angel Cabeza

“

”

. . . with tourismyou can achieveeconomic resultsvery quickly,and that’s what temptsmany nationalgovernments . . .

Eugenio Yunis

synthesize the information in such a way that we’re presenting only

one interpretation. We’re not leaving open opportunities for differ-

ent interpretations, values, and views of a site’s significance.

Neville Agnew: You would expect that the conservation of a site

and tourism at that site would be natural partners. Yet that has

not really transpired. Why?

Eugenio Yunis: Because the conservation activity or the management

plan for a site was defined and formulated without considering visi-

tation of the site. That’s wrong. When you prepare a management

plan, you have to consider that the site will be visited and you have

to determine the site’s carrying capacity. Sometimes tourist opera-

tors discover a site before a site management plan is formulated,

and therefore the way is open for tourism companies to do whatever

they wish. The solution to these problems is considering from the

start how to handle tourism. If a site is within a village or near

a city, you have to involve local people because they will support the

conservation of the site and must become stakeholders in the use

of the site.

Neville Agnew: And beneficiaries.

Eugenio Yunis: And beneficiaries at the same time through different

services related to the tourism industry. Now in that process, you

have to help them understand the implications of tourism. Tourists

may bring economic benefits if the local people are really involved

in the industry—but they may also bring negative social and cul-

tural impacts. Local people need to be aware of the possible nega-

tive impacts and decide if they want tourists and what number of

tourists they want. All this has to be done in advance of the tourists,

so that communities don’t get tempted by the economic benefits

and ignore the other consequences tourism may have. And this is

up to them to decide.

Martha Demas: But as the outside experts, your organization, the

, has an important role to play. There’s clearly a disparity

of power between the ministries of tourism, tourism agencies,

and tour operators on the one hand and the ministries of culture,

site managers, and the local stakeholders on the other. Part of

your purpose, as I understand it, is to try to negotiate between

these two and to advise governments.

Eugenio Yunis: The role of the is precisely that—to advise gov-

ernments. We try to establish bridges between the tourism author-

ity and all the other ministries that have some bearing on the

tourism sector—the environment, the national parks authority,

health, education. Normally the ministry of tourism is last in the

hierarchy of ministries. Many countries don’t even have a ministry

of tourism, or it is under another ministry. Whether this under-

standing of the complexity of tourism reaches the upper level of

Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lDialogue 15

governments depends more on the political composition of govern-

ment than on what we can do. Fortunately—and unfortunately—

with tourism you can achieve economic results very quickly, and

that’s what tempts many national governments as well as local

authorities. In many countries it’s the local authority that makes

decisions about tourism. Local authorities usually have four-year

terms, and they want to show quick results. One quick way is

tourism. So there are all these political factors.

Neville Agnew: While natural sites regenerate with care, archae-

ological sites accumulate damage that is irreversible. Is this

something that the WTO is aware of with regard to tourism at

archaeological sites?

Eugenio Yunis: Definitely—but tourism development does not

depend on the . When we talk of the , we have to distin-

guish between the member governments that make up the

and the secretariat. As the secretariat, we do what the members

want us to do. We pass along ideas, but in the end we are not respon-

sible for the policies that they implement and the projects that they

develop. I would go further. In many cases, not even governments

“

”

Angel Cabeza: Yes, and right now they are not only asking us to

protect archaeological sites but also asking us for conservation.

For example, the biggest project currently on the island, with

money provided by Japan through , is not for archaeological

research but for site conservation. The people on the island don’t

want more excavations. They want good conservation of the sites.

Why? Because they want to keep the sites. They know more people

are going to come. For conservation, it’s a very good opportunity.

But only when you can control tourism.

Brian Egloff: Very seldom do we have what you have just described—

a permanent stakeholder group. Permanent stakeholder groups are

empowered because they are continuous. This puts constraints on

the archaeologist or site conservator or conservation specialist, but

it also has the advantage that they know whom to speak to. Commu-

nity people have formed a common stakeholder group that is used

to dealing with government and used to making their voices heard.

In Australia, we have aboriginal land councils that we’re required to

speak to. We know who the stakeholders are.

are responsible for how tourism is handled in their countries. The

big tour operators make the decisions. Unfortunately, this is very

common in most developing countries, where they are first for the

foreign exchange and the jobs that tourism provides.

Neville Agnew: WTO does master planning for states, which is a

golden opportunity to factor awareness of conservation into the

planning. How does the WTO address those kinds of requests for

planning for tourism?

Eugenio Yunis: In setting up the consulting team that will prepare

master plans, we normally include—and I underline the word

normally—the types of experts required, from the physical planner

to the sociologist or anthropologist to—if appropriate—the archae-

ologist, conservation professional, or marketer. In some cases, the

budget priorities established by the government do not allow for the

experts who can advise on a site’s carrying capacity or conservation

elements—but normally we do that. These master plans are then

submitted to government, reviewed by government, and eventually

revised or approved by government. The implementation of plans

is beyond our responsibility.

Tim Williams: If we agree that archaeological sites are local, how do

we reconcile that with the top-down approach, coming in at

a national or province level and creating these master plans? The

local communities presumably are not getting consulted until the

master plan is already in place.

Eugenio Yunis: We very clearly insist that the local community be

consulted.

Tim Williams: For a whole province?

Eugenio Yunis: Depending on the type of country, on the social

organization that they have, sometimes you work with the local

authorities or through organized s of local communities. But

we normally try to get the involvement of local people. We are now

in the process of promoting what we call Local Agenda —we

send experts to formulate a consultation mechanism with the local

community and other stakeholders in the community, not only for

archaeological sites but for many other sites as well—even for beach

tourism.

Angel Cabeza: Tourism is always a risk for archaeological sites, but

it can also be a fantastic opportunity. For example, on Easter Island

years ago, the local population didn’t care about the archaeology.

But because tourists started coming from all over the world, they

discovered archaeology. They discovered themselves and they

developed their own tourism industry and services.

Eugenio Yunis: It’s almost fully owned by them.

16 Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lDialogue

We need to make knownto the widestpossibleaudience what we aredoing and how we arenegotiating.

Brian Egloff

“

”

Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lDialogue 17

Tim Williams: It’s sometimes very difficult to know whom to talk to—

and these sorts of empowered stakeholder groups are a mechanism

for opening up dialogue. The problem I have is that we are some-

times lulled into a belief that we’ve actually been brought into con-

tact with all the potential stakeholders associated with a particular

landscape. In fact, as we all know, local issues are complex, and the

people who have a voice in a local community aren’t necessarily the

only people in that community.

Martha Demas: How do you come to the determination as to whose

stake is greatest?

Angel Cabeza: It’s a social process, and you have to look for legisla-

tion to guide you. In many cases when we listen to stakeholders,

they’re just a few people of the community. You have to try to listen

to the silent voices of many people. If you are in the government,

you have a responsibility for everybody. You also have an ethical

responsibility for future generations. You have responsibility

to balance this. Because heritage doesn’t belong to one group,

it belongs to everybody.

Brian Egloff: You have another concept here—and that is the prin-

ciple of transparency. We need to make known to the widest

possible audience what we are doing and how we are negotiating.

A principle one often finds in the natural heritage management

context is that before you can deal with a particular situation, you

have to have a widely informed public.

Tim Williams: I totally agree with that transparency. By making that

debate available to a broader community, you sometimes engage

a group of people who didn’t think they were going to be interested

or be stakeholders within the process. As they find out about the

process, they then do feel that they have a stake or that they do have

something that they wish to contribute. But if you’re only talking to

a small number of people and you’re keeping that information very

confined, they’re never going to find out about it. Then you run

into that potential problem of people saying in a later stage of the

process, “Well, if we’d known what you were doing, we would have

had an opinion.”

Jeffrey Levin: What’s underlying our discussion is the notion that

archaeological sites are nonrenewable resources. Whether a site

gets used up by tourism or by overexcavation, it’s gone forever.

How far has the awareness permeated the archaeological profes-

sion that once you use up the resource, there’s no opportunity for

future archaeologists to conduct their own research and to

develop insights that currently elude us?

Tim Williams: Most archaeologists view the destruction of the

archaeological resource in England as under far greater threat from

processes such as agriculture, dewatering, changing land uses, and

coastal erosion than from archaeological excavations. They are well

aware that a site is a nonrenewable resource, and they want that

resource there for future generations. But they can identify much

bigger reasons why large tracts of it are not going to survive. Since

agriculture has been the single biggest cause of loss of archae-

ological sites in England. Overall, some , sites were lost

through a variety of actions between and . Less than

percent of those sites had been wholly or partly excavated prior to

destruction.

Jeffrey Levin: So even in that best of all possible worlds, where

archaeology and conservation have a greater melding, are the

other problems—such as agricultural activity—so overwhelming

that in the end it’s not going to be enough to prevent the loss of

integrity of sites?

Tim Williams: I think that the integration of archaeology and conser-

vation will help us pass down to future generations a great deal of

archaeological resources. If you’re looking at what we’re going to

lose from the archaeological resource, I still think that excavation is

a red herring.

Angel Cabeza: Where I see a problem is in the universities, what you

call academic archaeology. They want to keep their way of doing

things. If we want a more rapid integration between archaeologists

and conservators in fieldwork, we have to have more impact in

the universities and in the education of the new generations of

professionals.

Neville Agnew: Let me try to sum up. Although the old way of doing

academic archaeology is changing for the better in terms of

integrating conservation with archaeology, clearly more progress

can be made. How archaeologists approach their work seems

to depend on where in the world they are, as well as on the type

of archaeology being done. As for stakeholder involvement, the

practice is widespread. However, as pointed out, archaeologists

aren’t trained in community consultation. And mass tourism, if

not well managed, presents a powerful threat, but it also offers an

opportunity for the integration of archaeology and conservation.

Perhaps the area of archaeology and conservation still in most

need of integration is in a holistic approach to sites—that is,

from planning and implementation to use and long-term

preservation.

f

18 Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lNews in Conservation

F extrinsic to

archaeology, rather than a basic part of the process. As a result, its

potential for contributing from within to the articulation of archae-

ological methods and to the development of theoretical arguments

has not been fully realized.

Such an approach—integrating conservation into archaeo-

logical work at a site—has been central to our excavations at

Tell Mozan, the location of ancient Urkesh in northeastern Syria.

In undertaking our work at Urkesh—the primary center of Hur-

rian civilization in the third millennium of Syro-Mesopotamia—

we have sought to make conservation intrinsic to the archaeological

process, recognizing that conservation can provide benefits that

go well beyond preservation and that impact the very strategy of

excavation. Having acknowledged the need to conserve uncovered

fragments for the sake of documentation, and having agreed to pre-

sent them in a visually coherent reconstruction, we also recognize

that conservation should be an integral part of the strategic plan-

ning for a site as a whole.

An Intrinsic Component

Why should archaeologists bother to “think conservation” before

they start to dig? Why should conservation be an intrinsic compo-

nent of archaeological decision making?

There are at least two answers. The first is practical. The

expertise of the conservator should guide the archaeologist in the

choice of goals and in the determination of timing—is it feasible to

save a given feature and, if so, how should the excavation proceed

to minimize the need for later interventions? The second answer

is more ambitious: the archaeologist can actually learn about

archaeology from the conservator. The conservator has a superior

understanding of the materials; his or her quick determination

of the relevant properties can help excavators in their assessment

of the stratigraphy within which the given feature is embedded.

Additionally, the conservator has a trained understanding of the

A large hearth-shaped mudstructure—or andiron—found intact at Tell Mozan. Thesuccessful excavation andconsolidation of the andironwas the result of conservationconsiderations being integralto the overall archaeologicalwork at the site. Photos: TheInternational Institute forMesopotamian Area Studies(images V12d0817 andV14d9503).

Conservation at the Coreof Archaeological StrategyThe Case of Ancient Urkesh at Tell Mozan

By Giorgio Buccellati and Sophie Bonetti

News

in C

onse

rvat

ion

original integrity of the feature and the craftsmanship that created

it. This can protect the archaeologist from the potentially harmful

professional blind spot of concentrating so closely on the ruin as to

lose sight of the monument it once was. If architectural conserva-

tion—and where appropriate, reconstruction—is considered as

only an extrinsic intervention that takes place long after the ruin has

been cleared, then the archaeologist is deprived of a possible vision

of the site’s past. If, on the other hand, the original integrity of the

structures is envisaged during the process of excavation—in collab-

oration with the conservator—then the archaeologist’s understand-

ing of the remains under excavation is enriched.

Similarly, why should conservators bother to “think archaeol-

ogy”? Why should an understanding of stratigraphy become part

of their mind-set? The answer mirrors the one given to the first

question—namely, that conservators should be able to learn about

their profession from archaeologists. The process of stratigraphic

analysis by which archaeologists disentangle structures or objects

from the ground is in itself constitutive of the meaning ultimately

attached to these structures or objects. A shard scatter does not exist

only as a potential jar that the conservator might piece together.

The dynamics of the breakage are intimately interconnected with

the dynamics of the reconstruction. To understand this interaction

fully, conservators should have more than a passing experience with

archaeology. They should receive some specific training as archae-

ologists in order to develop an understanding of stratigraphic

analysis. Just as they learn specifics of chemistry in the laboratory,

so they must learn firsthand, on an excavation, the dynamics

between emplacement and deposition—how things are in the

ground now and how they came to be so in antiquity.

In our excavations at the site of ancient Urkesh, we have con-

sistently incorporated conservation into planning and implementa-

tion. The current major effort is the excavation of the Urkesh

Royal Palace, a vast structure built around ... The conser-

vation program—funded by the Samuel H. Kress Foundation and

implemented with the collaboration of the Opificio delle Pietre

Dure in Florence—has, among other things, resulted in an effective

and economical project of mudbrick wall conservation in the

Royal Palace.

This program goes back to , to the beginning of excava-

tions in this area. As a result of the conservation efforts made, the

walls are readily available for examination and study, while being

maintained in a state of preservation that hardly differs from when

they were first uncovered.

Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lNews in Conservation 19

Left: A general view of theservice wing of the RoyalPalace, looking southwest.Tightly fitting canvas tentscover the metal cages toprovide protection for thewalls. Right: The covers canbe quickly lifted to reveal thestate of the walls. Photos: The International Institute forMesopotamian Area Studies(images V13d8402 andV13d8567).

Mozan are largely of mud brick, except for the stone substructure,

and subject to damage by atmospheric elements. If left exposed, the

walls will crumble and disintegrate within a few years.

To mitigate this deterioration effectively, archaeologists and

conservators on the project jointly developed a new and relatively

low-cost type of protection in , based on the use of local mate-

rials and the ready availability of local craftsmen (this followed a

series of experiments dating to ). The new protection system

involved constructing metal frames or cages that follow the profile

of the walls and rest on the surface without affecting the stratigra-

phy. The frames are then covered with a thick, waterproof fabric

that the local population uses for tents. The first test with this new

system was made on just a few walls. It produced what looked like a

virtual reconstruction of the building—except that it was physical

as opposed to virtual.

After the system proved successful during the winter season

of , a massive operation was begun to cover the entire exposed

palace walls by the same method. The tents were tailored for metal

structures that were constructed by a local smith with the help of

a local architect, who also served as the representative of the direc-

torate general of antiquities and museums. The tents—sewn in the

excavation house and applied over the metal cages—can easily be

lifted to reveal the walls in their original state. One of the highlights

of this system is its complete and relatively fast reversibility. For

instance, to take aerial photographs of the site, the whole building

can be uncovered and the metal structures removed in a day.

In , a systematic program to monitor the conditions

of the walls was begun in order to determine if the covering

system was working and how it could be improved. In order to have

a clear sense of the humidity and temperature fluctuation through-

out the year, monitoring was carried out from summer to

summer by a project assistant who is a resident of the nearby

village of Mozan. He kept a precise record and provided a chart

of the values read from a hygrometer and thermometer twice a day,

every day.

Fieldwork at Tell Mozan

Very often on archaeological digs, conservators are considered

simply technicians and are expected to stay in the conservation

room all day gluing pieces together. As a result, they do not acquire

a feel for work in the field nor knowledge of how objects look when

they are still in the ground. This is why it is necessary for conserva-

tors to have some field experience—to know how to move within

the excavation. The conservator on site must be flexible and able to

work in the field as well as in the lab on short notice, since there are

often urgent cases at the excavation site. For example, archaeolo-

gists at Mozan asked the conservators to save a very fragile piece, a

burnt wood log, requesting that the log be lifted as a whole from the

ground. However, the conservators, based on practical considera-

tions, believed that the piece was much too delicate to be removed.

In this instance, the needs of both the conservator and the archaeol-

ogist were met with a solution that preserved the object in the

ground but left it in a state where experts could examine it in situ .

Another notable case was that of a large mud structure

shaped as a hearth, called an andiron by comparison with other

similar objects typical of Anatolia. The piece was found intact in

the ground, but the clay, not being baked, was exfoliating and

crumbling very quickly due to the rapid change in its environment.

In order to save what looked like a unique find, the object was lifted

as a whole with a large lump of soil around it, well wrapped in cot-

ton sheets, and carried to the excavation house on a wooden ladder.

It was then excavated and consolidated very slowly and was suc-

cessfully saved as a whole piece.

Clearly it is extremely important to create a genuine exchange

of information that can illuminate the needs of the conservator in

the field and the expectations of the archaeologist. They do not

always meet, but it is important to try. This is all the more impor-

tant when dealing with permanent features in the ground, such as

walls and hearths. The walls of the Urkesh Royal Palace at Tell

20 Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lNews in Conservation

The main problem turned out to be the effect of strong wind

against the tent material. During frequent sandstorms—or even

just normal strong winds—the tents, not being fixed at the base,

tended to slap vigorously and repetitively against the walls them-

selves. The combined effects of wind and rain caused some smear-

ing of the wall surface so that the bricks’ edges were no longer

visible. It was very useful for the conservator to be on site during

an episode of strong wind to observe the process that caused the

damage, in order to plan a different system to secure the tents

to the external metal cage. The same was true for a second problem

involving the presence of stagnant water on top of the canvas and

along the sides of the walls. Solutions to these problems were

developed and carried out through close cooperation between the

project’s archaeologist and conservator.

The conservator’s responsibility in the solutions imple-

mented included supervising the changes in the covering technique

and monitoring conditions. Monitoring involved taking digital

photos of every wall and preparing a series of notes in the form of a

diary. During the last two years, inspections were made three to five

times per season, every time with a particular objective in mind—

for instance, checking the state of the tops of the walls or checking

the conditions of the fabric after rain.

It is anticipated that the method for protecting the walls will

work well over longer periods of time, although a certain level of

maintenance is essential, since the fabric is affected by aging. In

, some of the old fabric was replaced with a new type that was

suggested by the tent maker. The new fabric has been tested and

appears perfectly waterproof. In summer , the resistance of the

fabric will be checked, and it is hoped that this new material will

prove more durable and protective than the old one.

The monitoring of the walls and of the covering method will

continue. We hope that the result will be optimal, so that with a

known, standard level of maintenance, we will be able to preserve

the palace walls of this very ancient site indefinitely. The results

obtained thus far demonstrate the virtue of embedding conserva-

tion in the process of excavation itself. In doing so, we not only

safeguard a ruin in the state in which it was found but also obtain a

richer understanding of the cultural whole of which the fragment

gives evidence.

Giorgio Buccellati, codirector of Urkesh excavations, is professor emeritusin the departments of History and of Near Eastern Languages and Culturesand director of the Mesopotamian Lab at the Cotsen Institute of Archae-ology, University of California, Los Angeles. Sophie Bonetti is the directorof conservation of the Urkesh/Mozan Archaeological Project and anindependent conservator based in Florence, Italy. She is a consultant on anumber of different international conservation projects.

Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lNews in Conservation 21

Conservator and archaeologistchecking the walls after a heavyrain. A metal basin suspendedfrom the trellis collects waterseeping through the tarp. Theclose cooperation between theconservators and archaeologistson the team is considered criti-cal for the success of the pro-gram. Photo: The InternationalInstitute for Mesopotamian AreaStudies (image V15d7562).

Two views of the metal cages or frames that encase the RoyalPalace walls as part of a preser-vation strategy developed andimplemented jointly by thearchaeologists and conservatorson the archaeological team. Set close to but not touching the walls, the frames rest on theground without intruding into it.The components are modular for easy removal, yet inter-locked to provide stability.Photos: The International Insti-tute for Mesopotamian AreaStudies (images V13d8521 andV13d8662).

f o r t h e F u t u r eOf the Past,

By Neville Agnew

A Limited Resource

Among all the categories of cultural heritage under threat, the

archaeological resource—artifacts and the sites from which they

came—is a repository and storehouse of information that is

increasingly in jeopardy. Since time immemorial, sites have been

exploited for treasure, looted for objects, destroyed out of idle

curiosity, and mined for raw building materials. So great are the

remains of the ancient civilizations of Egypt, Greece, China, and

the Americas as to seem, like the resources of the oceans, inex-

haustible. Perhaps this notion is encouraged by spectacular discov-

eries that continue to be made—for example, in the site in the

Valley of the Kings in Egypt, the Xi’an terra-cotta warriors in

China, and many others.

Yet there are many other instances of apparently inex-

haustible resources being depleted. The oceans are showing

evidence of severe depletion and pollution, our own gaseous

“ocean”—the atmosphere—is stressed by carbon dioxide and pol-

lutants, and the forests continue to fall. Is archaeological heritage to

be any different? We do not know how many and what kinds of sites

remain to be discovered. In the fields of the environment and ecol-

ogy, husbandry of resources is the catchword. We should apply the

concepts and methods of these fields more thoroughly to preserve

the archaeological heritage, for lost sites, like extinct species, can

never be regained.

Humankind’s curiosity about its own past gave rise to archae-

ology as a discipline. Thought of as the great “book” of the past,

the archaeological record is being consumed at an accelerating pace.

Multiple new forces now converge to degrade or destroy that

record—development, mass tourism, agriculture, aggressive

archaeological excavation, war, and looting for valuables. Like any

ancient document, the archaeological record is fragile. It should be

read and handled with extreme care because all damage is ulti-

mately irreversible.

Conservation, The GCI Newsletter lVolume 18, Number 1 2003 lNews in Conservation 23

A Coalition for C h a n g eat the Fifth World Archaeological Congress

Terra-cotta soldiersstanding guard at theburial complex ofEmperor Qin Shi-huangdi, near Xi’an,China (detail). Discov-ered in 1974 by farmersdrilling a well, the sitehas yielded more than 8,000 unique life-sizesoldiers and horses.Spectacular discoveriessuch as this one canencourage the impres-sion that the world’s

archaeologicalresources are some-how inexhaustible. But because the numberand kinds of sites thatremain to be discoveredare unknown, it is nec-essary to apply the kind of husbandry ofresources now exer-cised in the fields of the environment andecology. Photo: DennisCox/Timepix.

P P‒ and biologist Edward O. Wilson

speculates in his book In Search of Nature that we are genetically

predisposed to think only one or two generations into the future.

Always an intellectual adventurer, Wilson, in his latest book,

Consilience, strives to make a case for the fundamental unity of all

intellectual disciplines. The essence of these two ideas—overcom-

ing our blindness to the needs of generations yet to come, and a

holistic approach to how we should meet these obligations to the

future—increasingly underlies conservation thinking. Conserva-

tion is a futuristic activity vested in the belief that we today, who

have the power to safeguard or degrade what is of value to society,

should be good ancestors for future generations.

It is this philosophy that has prompted the Getty’s current

partnership with organizations from around the world to present

integrated conservation approaches at the Fifth World Archaeolog-

ical Congress (-) in June in Washington, D.C. The congress—

a worldwide organization of practicing archaeologists—holds

meetings every four years in a different part of the world. Collabo-

rating with the organizers of - are the Smithsonian Institu-

tion’s National Museum of Natural History and the National

Museum of the American Indian, as well as the Getty Conservation

Institute. The fifth congress is the first to be held in North Amer-

ica—and the first to include a major theme running throughout the

congress on the conservation of archaeological sites and materials.

The word conservation means different things to different

people. In its broadest meaning, it refers to care of the cultural and

natural heritage through assessment of the values of the resource,

diagnosis of causes of damage, research and testing to find reme-

dies, implementation, planning and management, and monitoring

and maintenance to ensure that the destructive trajectory does not

begin anew. It is in the areas of planning, assessment, management,

and decision making that conservation has developed in recent

decades. In order to address the complexity of heritage conserva-

tion, organizations such as the employ staff trained in the scien-

tific and technological disciplines of conservation, chemistry,

physics, engineering, and computing, as well as the disciplines of

archaeology, architecture, geography, planning, management, and

art history. All of these disciplines working in an integrated way are

required to meet the challenges posed by the many adverse factors

that assail the artistic and cultural heritage in museums and outdoor

sites in widely different climatic and geographic regions.

Conservation at WAC-5

When the was invited by the academic chair of - to

organize sessions on conservation throughout the congress, an

unparalleled opportunity presented itself. Here was an invitation

to reach out to the archaeology profession and to communicate a

message of holistic conservation, stressing the partnership role that

conservation, broadly defined, can play in archaeology, particularly

if brought into the process from the beginning. The decided,

with participation of staff members from the Getty Research Insti-

tute and the J. Paul Getty Museum, to seek a coalition of partner

institutions (see sidebar) from around the world to demonstrate and

present to the archaeological community the case for conservation’s

role in archaeology.

The conservation sessions will run each day of the congress.

There will be three plenary addresses by eminent archaeologists

who support conservation of archaeological heritage, with a total

of panel sessions of between minutes to two hours each.

As much as possible, professional archaeologists will present the

case for conservation by speaking from their own knowledge and

experience.

The themes of the conservation sessions are intended to

address most of the major issues facing the survival of the archaeo-

logical heritage today. Among these are: the threats to archaeologi-

cal World Heritage Sites; the increasing (and appropriately so)

demands of stakeholders for a voice in decision making about the

care and use of sites and artifacts; the challenges facing the conser-

vation of archaeological collections; mass tourism to iconic sites

and the sites’ exploitation for economic benefit; technical responses

to sites at risk—how one assesses the best types of intervention,

from sheltering a site to its reburial; innovative approaches to site

preservation (both pros and cons), from private acquisition of a site

to protect it, to privatization of national heritage (a step that has

been greeted by some with outrage); meeting the challenges of

rapid economic growth in China today; and the management of

archaeological sites and rock art in the southern African subconti-

nent. Descriptions of these and other subthemes are posted on the

- Web site (www.american.edu/wac).

Rather than present papers or case studies at -, the rep-

resentatives of the partnering organizations with the are form-

ing panels—each addressing a parti